‘Well—it’s more or less mechanical, with a boy, isn’t it? School and university,—and in his case, musical instruments?’
‘How wretched he’s going to be,’ he said fiercely, ‘Can’t you see?’
‘She wouldn’t let him be wretched,’ she said, startled.
‘She?—she won’t know it! And if she did, she’d be helpless.’
‘Well, he’s got you.’
‘Me!’ He gave his bark of laughter.
‘I mean—you like him,’ she ventured timidly.
‘I can’t stand brats. And they can’t stand me.’
‘I’m not talking about brats. I’m talking about Peter. I thought you liked him.’
He laughed.